


Not One Step Back

by levigu



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Historical, Historical Hetalia, Multi, Psychological Torture, Starvation, Torture, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levigu/pseuds/levigu
Summary: June 1941. Operation Barbarossa, the largest invasion in history, is launched by Germany against the Soviet Union. Ivan and his comrades are trapped in the city of Leningrad as the Nazi pincers close in. With food and supplies dwindling, everything about their lives is about to be tested.





	Not One Step Back

Ни шагу назад. Not one step back. That was the famous order issued by the Soviet High Command as the Nazi hordes poured into the Motherland, and it carried with it so much that was unstated, but implicitly understood by everyone even remotely connected with Soviet defense. In practice, this rallying call meant that anyone who dared to show a sign of turning their backs to the enemy risked brutal punishment by the Soviet powers that be.

Ivan, Ekaterina, and Natalya, as well as the three Baltic nations, were spending the summer of 1941 in the city of Leningrad, the capital of the Tsars and one of the cultural centres of the Soviet Union. It was a nod to the newly-arrived Baltics that Ivan uprooted the growing family for the summer – Leningrad was a port city on the Baltic Sea, and he felt that it would placate them to be close to the shores that they had known their whole lives.

One Sunday morning in June, Toris lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The sun had not yet risen, but the first signs were showing of the sky lightening. He felt the guilt wash over him in waves. His people were suffering under Ivan’s rule – and although he hadn’t been allowed into his own lands ever since they’d been forcibly attached to the USSR, his heart ached to know instinctively of the shortages, the starvation, the forced labour. A second wave of guilt came when he realised that no matter how much pain he was in, it was slowly fading to a dull ache over time. His people should mean more to him than that! He should be fighting for his home, his citizens – even his brothers! He should be fighting for Feliks too, although the thought of the Pole sent shivers down his spine. He could only pray that the stories Ivan told him about Ludwig’s treatment of his conquests were embellished.

He hadn’t fought enough. He was weak. Isn’t that what Ivan always told him?

Toris was jerked out of his own thoughts by a thump from downstairs, shortly to be followed by a crash and a yell. Everything fell silent for a moment.

“Everybody up!” Ivan’s harsh tones rang through the house. “Downstairs, now!”

The brunette jumped. He could feel himself starting to shake. Ivan had the good temperament of a bear most of the time, but it was a long time since he’d heard him this angry. Whatever this was, it must be serious. He leapt out of bed and began to fumble his way out of his pyjamas.

“You haven’t got time to get changed!” came that yell once again, almost as if he’d read Toris’ mind. “Everyone get downstairs now or I’ll have you mining salt!”

When Ivan got like this, Toris knew it was worth more than his life to disobey. He’d had that much made clear to him the last time he had the dubious pleasure of being Ivan’s subject. He tried to fix a carefully neutral expression on his face, steeled himself for whatever may come, and opened his door only to see Raivis, wide-eyed and horrified.

The younger blonde didn’t have to say anything. Toris pulled his brother into the briefest of hugs, before urging him, “Come on, we have to get downstairs… he’ll only be worse if we don’t.” Raivis sniffled and nodded, so Toris took his hand and guided him cautiously downstairs into the living room.

Ekaterina, Natalya, and Eduard were waiting there. Eduard gave Toris a worried, pleading look as he entered along with Raivis, but Toris could offer him nothing more than a shrug in response. Ivan was conspicuous by his absence, but there was a sure sign that he’d been there; a small hole in the plaster of the far wall, which had clearly been hit with a blunt object.

Silence reigned. Natalya stood cold and aloof, while Toris did his best to stand at attention, but the other three were struck by anxiety, particularly Ekaterina, who was fidgeting by her sister’s side. After a few long moments, the tension was broken by Ivan, who strode in carrying a sheaf of papers and bearing a stormy expression.

“Approximately forty minutes ago,” Ivan began to read in a rapid cadence, “our Motherland was subject to a massive and unprovoked attack by forces from Germany and allied nations. Our frontiers from the Baltic to the Black Sea have been breached.” Audible gasps went around the room, but Ivan paid them no heed. “Furthermore, we are ordered to stay in Leningrad until further notice. We will not show our backs to the enemy. Natalya, help her out, will you?” Ekaterina had broken down in noisy, messy sobs, and at Ivan’s request, Natalya put her arm on her sister’s shoulder and guided her out of the room, leaving the three brothers alone with Ivan.

“We’re going to stay… here?” Toris dared to ask, but quickly second guessed himself when Ivan loomed above him.

“Of course!” the Russian answered in a tone that was probably intended to sound upbeat. “This is our home, and I’m sure we’ll have no problem driving out the fascists.”

“But what if they get to us here? We’re not far from the border-“ Toris was interrupted by being pulled forward by Ivan’s grip on his pyjama shirt.

“Why are you speaking like that? Do you think that I’m not capable of handling Germany for us?”

“N-no, I-“

“Then be silent!” Ivan shouted in the brunette’s face, shoving him roughly backwards. “I expect every one of you to comply with orders from myself and from our High Command. If you do not, there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

Toris gulped and nodded. Past stays with Ivan had made it perfectly clear what sort of consequences he was capable of dreaming up, and Toris had no wish to revisit those times.

“Good.” Ivan’s tone was dangerous, almost venomous. “Good. Then I shall expect nothing short of your full co-operation. And Toris?”

“Yes, Ivan Zimavich?” This was a particularly polite and formal way of addressing someone in Russian, and Toris hoped that he might be able to curry some favour from the taller man by using it.

“The noble men of the Red Army are doing all that they can. But I’m afraid that you and your brothers might find the next few weeks to be somewhat uncomfortable. I apologise for that.”

Toris stared at him in shock. It wasn’t like Ivan to actually apologise for something – but the sickening truth was starting to dawn on him. He was right in the path of the attack! And as German troops crossed over from Poland – he thought of Feliks once again with a pang in his heart – he was going to bear the full brunt of that first strike.

_Better me than my brothers,_ he thought, but that did nothing to ease the burning pain that he could already feel. Were there air raids? Were his people being bombed? He didn’t know, and it’s unlikely that he would know, such was Ivan’s hold on information. He certainly wasn’t going to find out details in Pravda, the newspaper organ of the Soviet state. But he knew that there was already pain, and death, at this early hour, and he wanted to strike out at Ivan for dragging them all into this situation, but at the same time he wanted to crumple up and cry until he could cry no more.

Instead, he merely maintained a neutral façade and nodded at Ivan.

“Very well,” was the response he got. “There is no point in me keeping you here. I suppose you may all return to your rooms.”

Toris didn’t have to be told twice. He fled from the room, his eyes burning. He heard what he thought might have been one of his brothers calling out to him, but he paid this no heed, instead fleeing to the safety of his room, where he slammed the door shut and slumped against it, panting.

What loyalty did he owe Ivan, after he had been dragged here not a year prior?

Ivan told him so many terrible things about Ludwig, but Toris felt honestly comfortable dismissing the vast majority of what was said. Ivan liked to get in people’s heads and make them feel alienated. That’s how he worked. He was greedy and power-hungry, and what’s to say that Toris had to stand back and let himself be used again and again?

And this new and growing pain that he was feeling, far different to the dull ache of earlier – was that Ludwig’s doing? Or were the men of the Red Army so noble as to salt the Earth as they retreated?

They’d done it before, after all. If his people were dying, whose hands were bloody? He had no way of telling, but he knew that Ivan already had the blood of innocent Lithuanians on his hands, so nothing would surprise him should that turn out to be the case.

Let’s say Ludwig did win this war, he thought to himself. Could his living situation be any worse than what Ivan had imposed on him over the past year? This could be his chance at freedom and independence.

The thought of putting his trust in Ludwig terrified him, but a future where he was forever chained to Ivan’s side seemed infinitely worse. With his fist clenched, he made his decision. He could influence precious little from this position, hundreds of miles behind either the conflict or his own borders, but he knew one thing for certain. His defiance would help his people resist, one way or another.


End file.
